


Happy Birthday, Hotshot

by fisherford40



Category: Star Wars RPF
Genre: F/M, RPF, carrison
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-02
Updated: 2016-08-02
Packaged: 2018-07-28 23:55:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7662091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fisherford40/pseuds/fisherford40
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carrie wishes Harrison a happy birthday.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Happy Birthday, Hotshot

**Author's Note:**

> This was a little something I wrote and posted on tumblr on Harrison's birthday. I realized I never posted it here, so I'm remedying that now. Enjoy if you haven't already read it on tumblr!

Harrison sat on the couch in his hotel suite nursing a beer, a frown on his face. It was his birthday and yet he didn't feel much like celebrating. Calista had gone home, leaving him alone in Portugal on his birthday, which he was somewhat upset about and yet somewhat relieved about. He’d told her he hadn't been in much of a celebratory mood and she’d been annoyed, so she'd gone home. Now he was sulking alone. 

Seventy-four. Seventy-four years old. How the fuck did that happen? He was getting old and he didn't like it. Sure, he was still in great shape for his age and was able to do almost anything he wanted, but there were little aches and pains sometimes that had started to creep up on him. He couldn't do as many stunts now and they had always been one of his favorite parts of filming a movie. 

He sighed and took another sip of his beer. He also didn't like to think about the increasingly less time he had with his loved ones. His kids and grandkids, his wife, his friends, Carrie… _Carrie_. His frown deepened. He hadn't seen her in a couple weeks since she'd been so busy with the end of filming and he missed her deeply. Texts and calls only helped ease his longing so much. They couldn't replace the feeling of her in his arms. She hadn't even wished him happy birthday yet and he had to admit that wasn't helping his mood one bit. 

Harrison was brought out of his thoughts then by the sound of his phone buzzing against the coffee table, alerting him to a new text message. He leaned over and grabbed it, his frown easing slightly. _Speak of the devil_ , he thought, seeing the message was in fact from none other than Carrie Fisher. He was glad Calista had taught him how to text and had been amused at her annoyance when she realized who he tended to text the most. He didn't really like it to begin with, but when Carrie was busy it was sometimes the easiest way for her to communicate and he’d take anything, even if he wasn't the biggest fan of texting. 

He couldn't help the smile that spread across his face as he opened her message and read what she had written. **Hey, sexy. Happy 86th Birthday! Don't break a hip while celebrating today.** She’d placed at least ten little smiley faces throughout the message, whatever those images were that she used online, and he found himself laughing and smiling for the first time that day. 

He typed a response as quickly as he could, which wasn't very quickly in all honesty and pressed send. **Thanks, sweetheart! If I break a hip while sitting on the couch drinking a beer, that's just sad. How are you?**

Her reply came quickly and he was glad that she seemed to have a free moment to talk with him. **I'm well. I miss you.** He started to type a reply when she sent a second message. **You know, I'm sure there are much more interesting ways for you to break a hip on that sofa.**

Harrison howled. Of course she'd say something like that. **I miss you, too, Carrie. Oh really? What did you have in mind?** He could picture her raised eyebrow as she typed her response. 

**Well, they all include me and you having fun on the couch. The question is whether your hip will break while we’re still going at it or when you inevitably fall off the couch onto the floor.**

Harrison roared with laughter again as his skin flushed at the thought. **I'm intrigued. Tell me more. Did we manage to undress or are we still wearing clothes?** What the hell was he doing? Texting her suggestive messages back? It was ridiculous, but he couldn't help himself now. This was much more fun than brooding by himself on the sofa. 

**No clothes. Just like I am now.** Damn. He felt himself react to that as he pictured her sitting there naked, texting him. His phone buzzed again with her second message. **Wanna see?**

Harrison’s eyes grew wide as he felt himself harden even more. What the fuck was happening? How did this go from innocent flirting to Carrie offering to send him pictures. What was that called anyway? Ah, sexting, that's right. He shakes his head. He turned seventy-four today and he's pretty sure he’s sexting. **What? Uh, Carrie, I think you're going a little overboard here…**

It was too late though and her next text came in. He held his breath as he looked at the photo, but his brow furrowed in confusion. What in the world? Were those her knees? **Uh, sweetheart, I've seen your breasts hundreds of times and those are most definitely not them. You do have great knees, though. Killer legs, really.**

I response she sent a message full of at least ten of a smiley face that appeared to be laughing and crying at the same time before a message with words. **Damn. Billie told me it's a thing girls are doing now when they don't want to send actual nude pictures. Of course, I don't mind sending you real pictures. Anytime. Just ask.** This one was punctuated at the end with a winking face that appeared to be puckering up to kiss someone, a heart coming from the mouth. He really needed to have her teach him these smiley things. 

**Thanks, honey. But I don't know if I'll ever be comfortable sending you a picture back.**

He had to laugh at her response. **Well, that's too bad. I guess I'll just have to keep your birthday present now. It's a shame. I think you would have really loved it. I hand picked it for you. Oh well.**

Harrison’s curiosity was piqued. **Maybe I could reconsider…**

He was relieved at her reply. **Good boy. I guess I can give you your present now.**

 **What is it?** He waited for her to answer and was disappointed when she didn't reply right away as she had been. There was a knock on his hotel room door then and he looked up, surprised. He hadn't ordered room service or anything. He put his bottle of beer and phone down on the coffee table as he stood up. Walking to the door, Harrison looked through the peephole and threw the door open immediately.

“Carrie?” he breathed, eyes dilating as he took in the sight before him. She was wearing one of the fancy robes from the hotel so her arms were covered, but it was wide open in the front, revealing her creamy skin to him, only covered by an enticing black lace bra and matching underwear. There was a bow stuck to the top of her head.

“Do you like your present?” Carrie asked, grinning wickedly at him, her eyes sparkling with humor at his response which, as she glanced down, she could clearly see was slowly growing. Harrison swallowed hard and nodded, reaching out to grab her wrist. He pulled her into his room, quickly closing the door as he did so, and then her back was against the door, his lips covering hers.

Harrison kissed her passionately, somehow knocking the bow from her head and divesting her of the robe as he ran his hands over her skin. When they pulled apart, they were both panting and grinning like idiots at each other. “God, that beard really needs to go soon. You're way too scruffy looking and it’s like I'm kissing Santa Claus,” she teased and he laughed. “Come on, let’s go work on trying _not_ to break a hip,” Carrie said with a wink, taking his hand and leading him across the room to the sofa. 

When they reached the piece of furniture, Carrie laid down, still holding his hand. She watched his eyes rake over her form in the lingerie again and laughed, feeling slightly self conscious but knowing he was the person she could trust most in the world. “If it wasn't your birthday…” she mumbled, shaking her head. “You're still wearing far too many clothes,” she commented. That seemed to catch his attention and he quickly stripped to his boxers for the moment. She took his hand again and gently tugged him toward her. 

Harrison slowly settled himself on top of her, reveling in the feel of her beneath him. He brought a hand up to brush some hair away from her face, tenderly caressing her cheek as he did so. “Thank you. I love my present. I love you, Carrie,” he breathed, kissing her softly. 

“You're welcome. I love you, too, Harrison,” she said, tangling her hands in the (now as long as it ever had been) silvery white hair at the nape of his neck. “Happy Birthday, hotshot,” she whispered, before claiming his lips with hers again. 


End file.
